Silent Witness by Diane Burke Page B

and took a sip from her own cup.
    Liz chuckled. “You never can tell. I don’t feel very human this morning, that’s for sure.”
    “Jeremy, don’t hit,” Charlie yelled out to Jeremy. “No hitting.”
    Jeremy pretended he didn’t hear but both women noticed his pushes and shoves subtly turned into pats and hugs. When it was evident the dog was in no danger of being hurt, she relaxed back against the door frame.
    “It’s good to hear him laugh, isn’t it?” Charlie nodded in Jeremy’s direction. “No sweeter sound for sure.”
    Liz’s heart clenched. Almost from the moment she’d found the child huddled beneath the pile of blankets in his mother’s closet, all she had wanted to do was hold the boy in her arms, rock him, kiss him and not let anyone or anything ever hurt him again. She didn’t understand why these maternal feelings had rushed to the surface. She’d been with sick children, injured children and abused children before. She’d felt empathy for their situation but she’d never felt such deep personal emotion. She wasn’t sure why and she definitely didn’t know what to do about it.
    “The poor kid hasn’t had much to laugh about lately, has he?” Charlie smiled at her over the rim of her coffee. “But that seems to be changing. Adam is doing a wonderful job with him. Don’t you think?” Before Liz could answer, she said, “Jeremy is taking to Rerun quicker than I expected, too. I think the two of them are a good match.”
    “Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate all you’ve done for Jeremy the past couple of days.”
    “Don’t thank me. I’m only doing what Adam hired me to do. Maybe you should thank him.” She gestured inside with her mug and then stepped off the porch to join the dog and the boy on the lawn.
    Liz remained in the doorway and watched the scene in front of her a little longer. She watched as Charlie sat cross-legged beside Jeremy. She petted Rerun and encouraged the boy to pet not push. She had infinite patience and always wore a smile on her face. Jeremy liked Charlie, Liz could tell. He quieted down in her presence. He echoed her sentences and followed most of her requests.
    Liz liked Charlie, too.
    She had to admit she hadn’t when they first met. The petite redheaded beauty represented all the gals in high school that Liz had always wished she could be and never was. The cheerleaders. The prom queens. The tiny, doll-like, curvy females that Liz towered over. She remembered tons of times she’d tried to bargain with God. She begged him to please let her stop growing taller than many men, to please let her have wider hips and a smaller waist.
    But God had other plans.
    Liz grew to five-eleven and had a thick waist and narrow hips. Her mother had told her a hundred times that she was lucky she was slender, lithe, athletic. But she hadn’t ever felt lucky. All she’d wanted was to be one of the pretty little Barbie gals. She was angry and sorely disappointed when God’s answer was no.
    Thinking those painful adolescent years were way behind her, Liz was caught off guard when they surfaced again the first time she set eyes on Charlie. It was all she could do to stifle the unexpected tsunami of jealousy that swept over her when she saw Charlie’s arms wrapped around Adam’s neck. Fifteen years ago or not, she still wasn’t pleased to see another woman in Adam’s arms. She was fully prepared to dislike her with a passion.
    But no one could dislike Charlie—not even her.
    “Penny for your thoughts.”
    A warm shiver raced up and down her spine at the sound of Adam’s voice. She could almost feel the touch of his breath on the back of her neck. She wanted to lean against the rock-hard wall of his chest and tuck his arms around her. But sanity prevailed. Been there. Done that. Ain’t doing it again. Hurts too much when it’s over.
    “Morning, Adam. You’re up early.”
    “Could say the same about you. That is, if you slept in the first place. I thought I heard